


Patience and Time

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-11
Updated: 2008-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They were all so relieved Sheppard was alive and seemingly uninjured in spite of the feedings they'd been forced to watch him suffer. Maybe that was why they laughed and jabbered and kept touching him, not noticing the way Sheppard's elbows were held bent away from his body in protection, or the way his usual smile seemed as fragile as <b>serti</b> glass, ready to fall away in shards.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patience and Time

_"The two most powerful warriors are patience and time."_

—Leo Tolstoy 


  


Patience, more than any other trait, made it possible for Ronon to survive seven years as a Runner.

His training in arms, his physical strength, endurance and speed were necessary to win each fight. But it was patience that had made it possible for him to turn from the hunted to a hunter.

His patience was second only to his rage.

:::

They were all so relieved Sheppard was alive and seemingly uninjured in spite of the feedings they'd been forced to watch him suffer. Maybe that was why they laughed and jabbered and kept touching him, not noticing the way Sheppard's elbows were held bent away from his body in protection, or the way his usual smile seemed as fragile as _serti_ glass, ready to fall away in shards.

Ronon knew that look.

After returning to Atlantis Sheppard made the traditional trek to the infirmary, where Elizabeth joined them, worry on her thin face. Beckett ran a scan and pronounced Sheppard "healthy as an ox" with a delighted grin, and started checking him over for minor injuries. When Beckett asked him to remove his shirt, Sheppard gave Ronon a look and a flick of his eyes.

Ronon nodded and began herding the others out, corralling McKay with one arm and ignoring his babble. " _You don't have to get all schoolgirl on us, Colonel, we've seen your scrawny figure before._ "Teyla assisted, talking quietly to Dr. Weir, leading instead of pushing, until they were all blocked by the screen.

Beckett lowered his voice, but Ronon had a tracker's ears.

_"Ach, lad. I'm afraid this will scar. But I have a good ointment that should minimize—"_

_"It's fine,"_ Sheppard said lazily, but Ronon heard the bite of impatience. _"Are we good? I have to go debrief."_

_"Not so quick. I want to draw some blood. Also, you may feel fine, but you've been through a physical trauma, haven't you? So, I need you to promise to get some rest as soon as possible."_

_"Right. As soon as possible, Doc."_  
_  
_ But the debriefing went long and turned into a party. People showed up with food and Athosian ale. Ronon lost track of Sheppard for a little while because there was something called "cream puffs," and he'd never had them before. When he looked up again, he saw Dr. Weir drawing Sheppard into her office.

Ronon acquired a few more of the cream puffs, easily blocking Rodney's grab and using his long arms to his advantage. Then he retreated to wait in the alcove by Sheppard's room.

He was prepared for a long wait. It would be many hours until everyone else had taken his or her piece of Sheppard's time and attention. Ronon would have his, as well.

He sat so silently and still that the oblivious scientists and even the marines didn't even notice him as they passed by on the way to and from their quarters. He sat until he heard the familiar pattern of Sheppard's footsteps, and then eased out of the shadows.

Sheppard stopped, his shoulders rising.

"Ronon."

"Sheppard." Ronon crossed his arms. "I need to speak to you."

The press of Sheppard's lips betrayed his unwillingness, but he nodded.

"Sure thing." Sheppard tilted his head toward his quarters and stepped up to the doors, which opened without a gesture. Sheppard must really be tired. Usually he at least made the appearance of needing the panel to unlock his door.

He led the way into his room, which lit up to greet him. "What can I do you for?"

"I need to know something."

Turning, Sheppard gave him a half-smile. "What about?"

"The Wraith."

Sheppard's shoulders tensed and he looked away. Then he shrugged and he started to unstrap his holster. "Look, I know you wanted me to kill him, but—"

"No."

"—he saved my life, okay? We had a deal."

"It's not about that."

Sheppard gave him a disbelieving look and continued to remove his thigh holster, then the knife from his belt. Ronon reminded himself sternly that this wasn't Sateda; removing his weapons did not mean Sheppard was inviting him to have sex.

Ronon's cock gave a twitch of interest anyway.

"I need to know what it was like for you."

The knife landed on Sheppard's side table with a loud thunk. Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck and didn't respond.

"Before they made me a Runner, there was a Wraith who started to—but he stopped. He never really fed. So, I don't know—"

" _Ronon._ " Sheppard's voice was hoarse. "Look, I get why you want to know, because of what happened to—to everyone you knew back on Sateda. But this—" Sheppard turned, his hand unconsciously rubbing at his chest. "I can't say anything comforting here, okay?"

"I don't need comfort." Ronon's voice was too rough, and he cleared his throat. "Anyway, that's not why." It was his turn to look away, look down, anywhere but into Sheppard's eyes, which had a tendency to see too much.

"Sheppard. I need to know."

"And I already said—I'm not going to—"

Ronon took a step forward and Sheppard's voice cut off, his hand dropping to his empty holster. That wasn't good. Sheppard was still in enemy hands, at least in his mind.

It had taken months for Ronon to stop stockpiling food, to stop noting exit paths when he first arrived in Atlantis. He'd slept fully dressed with his knives on his person and his stunner under his pillow. The man standing in front of him was the main reason Ronon had finally accepted he was safe here.

Maybe Ronon could return the favor.

"Kolya made us watch each time," Ronon said.

"I know." The straight line of Sheppard's body bent a little.

"Except finally I couldn't any more. I didn't watch the whole thing." Ronon hadn't realized the shame he'd felt until he said it out loud, but Sheppard took a step toward him, one hand raised uncertainly.

"I'm glad, okay? I would have told you not to."

"But that's why I need to know."

"Oh." Sheppard sat down on his bed. "Well, I'm not going to tell you. You're—look, you saw plenty before you even came here. Way more than the rest of us, and believe me, I wish—"

Ronon sat beside him, heartened by the fact Sheppard didn't shift away.

"It was bad," Sheppard admitted quietly. "It was like—" he grimaced. "At least now I know I did right by Sumner."

Ronon didn't know the name, but he could guess the story. He had a few of his own.

"It gave me back someone else's life, some poor kid who was just following orders." Sheppard rose suddenly and walked toward the bathroom. "I need a shower. God, I need to get clean. Are we done?" he threw behind him.

Almost. There was one last thing Ronon needed to say. He came up behind Sheppard, saw him stiffen, but put his hand on Sheppard's shoulder anyway. And left it there. Waiting.

His eyes met Sheppard's in the mirror propped above the sink, and Sheppard didn't shrug him off. And didn't. Ronon took one step closer, until the heat of Sheppard's body registered against his chest, against his groin.

He saw the understand flicker into Sheppard's eyes a second before they darted away. But still Sheppard didn't shrug him off.

"I'm glad you're back," Ronon said, feeling as if he'd obtained a small victory. He squeezed once and dropped his hand.

The doors opened swift and silent as he let himself out.

:::

From that point on, Ronon was playing the waiting game, a variant of _chule_ and _batka_ from his home world. Like the foolish _batka_ , Sheppard seemed to be pretending he didn't know he was being stalked, as if his ignorance were a shield.

On their morning runs, Ronon let Sheppard go ahead so he could watch the flex of his back, the working of his ass and thighs. Sheppard ran faster, as if he were truly being pursued. Ronon was surprised the strategy hadn't occurred to him earlier, because usually on their runs it was Ronon in front, egging Sheppard on with insults. This was much better.

Not to mention the view was improved.

On days the team was grounded, Ronon lurked in the mess hall, the shooting range, staying close as Sheppard ate lunch or did drills or went about his business as commander. But Ronon never engaged; the key was to keep Sheppard on edge, curious.

The plan backfired one late night when Ronon was stalking him. He turned the corner toward the armory and Sheppard was there, shuffling him back into the corner by the door.

"Stop following me," Sheppard hissed. His forearm was placed just so under Ronon's chin—less than a threat to breathing, but hardly friendly.

"Then stop running."

Sheppard stared at him, his eyes wild, then shook his head and shoved Ronon back before striding off.

For the next three days, when Ronon stopped by for their run, Sheppard didn't respond to his knock. He didn't get to see Sheppard again until the next mission, when Ronon figured it would be okay to hang close. Instead of taking their six, he let Teyla stay back there with Rodney, who was complaining about pollen.

Ronon joined Sheppard on point and took advantage of the cover of whining to say, "I came by for a run, but you weren't there."

Sheppard didn't reply. The two suns were hot overhead, heating Ronon's skin in spite of the dense protection of the forest. He could smell Sheppard—clean musk, and some tangy scent that for some reason was making Ronon inhale deeply through his nose to capture it.

He wanted to put his nose in the hair on the back of Sheppard's neck, under his arm, bury his face in the join of Sheppard's thighs and feel him shudder.

"You avoiding me?"

Sheppard shot a glance back over his shoulder and kept his voice quiet. "I've been busy."

"Nah. You've been avoiding me. It's stupid. You're stupid."

A sardonic smile turned up the side of Sheppard's lips. "It's been said. More than once."

"I'm not surprised." Frustrated, Ronon said bluntly. "I could make you feel good. Make you crazy with it."

Sheppard gave him a hard look and pulled ahead.

Later, after they'd made contact with Teyla's trading partners, they bunked down in some spare rooms above a bar. Sheppard took the room with Rodney, making some joke about Ronon's snoring that didn't sit well.

Teyla gave Ronon a look as she unpacked her bedroll in their room. "You push too hard, Ronon. You don't understand him."

Ronon wasn't surprised Teyla's sharp ears had overheard. "He's stupid. There's no reason for this."

"Perhaps he has reasons you don't know of. He isn't the kind of man to..." Teyla slowed her words, "indulge himself. He believes in putting others first." She shrugged. "Maybe he thinks being with you would interfere with his ability to do so. But you should know, Ronon—when we were coming for you on Sateda, he told me there was nothing he wouldn't do for you, for us."

"He won't do _this_." Ronon heard the petulance of his own words, but his heart burned, and he couldn't regret them.

Teyla sounded exasperated as she said, "All I am saying is, you cannot coax him by offering him pleasure. He needs something else. And if you cannot figure out what that is, you will not get your chance."

Her words irritated Ronon while he prepared for bed.

In the night, some raiders came, and Ronan and the rest were forced to fight to protect the village. Trapped in the back of the bar, he found himself staring at Sheppard's face as they made a desperate plan.

"It's two klicks to the gate," Sheppard said. There was blood on his cheek, and he grinned fiercely. "I'd rather not walk. What do you say we try a carjacking? The raiders are bound to follow us."

While Sheppard explained the strange term to Ronon and Teyla, Rodney complained about being asked to "hot wire" the raider's ground vehicle. It looked like a cross between a jumper and a wagon—square, with four wheels, but with engines on the side to power it forward.

The plan worked almost perfectly. They stole the vehicle and headed toward the gate, the raiders running behind yelling and uselessly firing their weapons.

Ronon was sent to wait by the DHD because Rodney was busy melting the vehicle controls while Sheppard planted some explosives and Teyla watched for the pursuit.

The rest was confusing. At some point the raiders must have reclaimed the vehicle just after Sheppard, Rodney and Teyla headed for the gate. Ronon dialed, saw a bright flash, and woke up in the infirmary, his ears still ringing and a bad pain in his back and side.

Sheppard was standing by his bed talking quietly to Keller.

"What happened?" Ronon asked, rust in his throat.

"Hey, buddy, you're awake!"

Keller hurried over with glad sounds and shone a harsh light in each of his eyes.

Sheppard edged around the side of the bed. "I guess we used a little too much C-4. I think you got hit by a piece of fender."

"How did I make it to the gate?"

Sheppard shrugged. Keller said, "He _carried_ you. Which is why he's on muscle relaxants right now for his back, and should be _resting_."

She sounded like she was singing an old tune. Sheppard gave Ronon an eye-roll and then grinned. "You could lose a few pounds, big guy."

"Maybe you need to work out more."

Sheppard smirked, looking pleased.

And just like that it seemed they were back to earlier, before Ronon had pushed and messed things up. Maybe Teyla was right, because Sheppard was there when Ronon was released, and seemed happy to help him get back to his quarters. He brought movies to watch when Ronon complained about being bored, and sat with him explaining weird Earth customs while they ate popcorn.

Ronon's bed was wide—he'd finally acquired a second one and had joined the two together with a layer of blankets on top, tired of rolling off in the middle of the night. They sat with their shoulders close but not touching, both staring down at the computer between them.

"I don't understand why the president and his family didn't leave earlier, before the alien countdown finished."

"They were trying to keep people calm, keep them from panicking."

"But the humans could have lost their leader."

"Sometimes being a leader means being expendable."

Ronon shook his head. "But they _should_ have panicked. These aliens are like the Wraith. No peace could be possible with them. The humans needed their leader to live, to fight."

Sheppard just looked thoughtful.

In the end, the ugly aliens were crippled by a computer virus created by a character who talked as fast as McKay. Ronon bit his tongue from mentioning they were both equally annoying. Then he realized he didn't have to, because Sheppard had fallen asleep.

He was slumped over, the tips of his hair dragging against Ronan's. Ronon turned, suppressing a hiss as his ribs complained, and nudged Sheppard further down until he was lying flat on his back.

He watched Sheppard sleep for some time before closing up the computer and drifting into dreams.

:::

Over the next days Sheppard was different, switching between being Ronon's familiar team leader and someone who gave him swift, shy looks before he would frown and turn away.

It gave Ronon hope. A strange feeling, more than a little unsettling.

When he had recovered enough, he stopped by Sheppard's quarters and they went for a run. His stamina was lost, and halfway through the run he had to stop and hang onto the railing and pant while Sheppard teased him.

"I'll have to remember this—all it takes is dropping something heavy on you."

Ronon growled and set off again.

:::

Things were normal. The mood of the whole team was good—they were working well and smoothly together. Sheppard spent more time in Ronon's quarters showing him movies and teaching him how to play strange Earth games.

Sheppard fell asleep a few times on his bed, but Ronon didn't take advantage, though his gut ached to touch him at those times, when Sheppard's full mouth relaxed and his hands fell loose on the blankets.

Sheppard trusted him. And Ronon was trapped between patience and desire and something else that made him hesitate.

If the sensation weren't so unfamiliar, he would call it fear.

:::

Teyla was taken, and everything was broken.

Ronon raged alone in his quarters, in the sparring room, and on the shooting range while he tried to be patient waiting for the others to do their job and find out the who and where, so he could go there and do _his_ job and shoot and fight and kill until they had her back.

Except it didn't quite happen that way. They failed in their first attempt to retrieve her from Michael. And then Sheppard disappeared trying to contact an informant. He stepped into the Ring and just didn't come out again.

Ronon brought Rodney food and huddled next to him in the lab, in the gate room, while Rodney frantically tried to find out what happened. Ronon needed to be near and hear Rodney babbling, because it seemed like everything Ronon needed to say was being said by that unstoppable mouth. The misery, the fear—the more Ronon listened, the more calm he felt, until he was pulled deep inside himself in waiting.

He knew if they didn't get Teyla and Sheppard back, sharing Rodney's grief wouldn't be enough to keep him there.

:::

Twelve days passed, and then Sheppard stepped through the gate a madman. Ronon wasn't in the gate room, but heard the murmurs of surprise as the news spread. " _Colonel Sheppard is back."_

Ronon had had twelve days to think, and he'd made a deal with himself. If they got Sheppard back, no more being patient. Together they would rescue Teyla, and then Ronon would...do something.

He wasn't sure what.

It wasn't that easy, though. First, they went to the location where Teyla was supposed to be, but the intel wasn't complete. They accidentally triggered a self-destruct, and Michael's lab complex exploded down around them.

They were buried. Sheppard was injured and trapped under a beam. Ronon tried to get him out. He strained to lift the beam until his arms and back were trembling.

"Ronon. You need to get out of here."

"Would you leave me if I was stuck under there?"

Sheppard lied and said yes. Sheppard was pretty good at lying, but Ronon saw the way Sheppard's eyes didn't leave his. When Sheppard told the truth, he always looked away.

They heard searchers above, and for a moment Ronon's heart jumped gladly. But it was Michael's hybrids, come to capture or kill—it made no difference. Sheppard's plan was to shoot until they couldn't shoot anymore. Which had pretty much been Ronon's philosophy for the past ten years, so he was game.

Right before the hybrids broke through, Sheppard said to him, "It's been a pleasure."

And Ronon, cursing his stupid tongue, could only say, "Same," but what he really wanted to say was—

_There's no one I would rather die beside._

:::

After he transported them both to the infirmary, Caldwell said to Sheppard, "You've got more lives than a cat, Colonel."

But Ronon didn't think that was true so much as they had more friends than most. Friends willing to drop their shields in the middle of a Hive attack just to save two lives.

Earth people were seriously crazy.

:::

They rescued Teyla _and_ her baby. Ronon's team was together again. And now he had a promise to keep that he'd made to himself. He wasn't very good at those kinds of promises, and he couldn't understand why his watery fear at the idea was worse than he'd felt under that building with Sheppard and no hope for survival.

Ronon needed help. He joined Teyla on a trip to the mainland so he could ask her advice once again.

"All seems well between you and the Colonel," she said without prompting once they'd started their walk from the gate.

"We're good," Ronon said, shy of saying further now that it had come time to speak of it.

"But still you are not satisfied."

Ronon felt himself flush hotly. "I'm trying to be patient."

"There is such a thing as too much patience," Teyla said. She stepped over a log that had fallen across the path. "I think...the Colonel is waiting, too."

"You know that?"

Teyla smiled. "His eyes follow you."

Ronon got nervous then, and changed the subject.

Ten minutes later, Tyre attacked.

:::

Ronon had always thought being strong was an asset, until the Wraith had him. Until he was fed upon, over and over.

He'd wanted to know what Sheppard had gone through. Now Ronon knew too much. It was worse than he'd feared, and he looked forward to seeing Sheppard again and kicking his ass for withholding this from him.

He _would_ see Sheppard again. Sheppard would come for him.

:::

But when Sheppard finally came, there was nothing left of Ronon, nothing but the shell of a worshipper in his place. Disgusting, weak, a traitor to his people, to his friends. Needing something that hummed in his veins, fucked with his mind. Needing it so badly he wanted to die.

He had never thought it possible that he would feel hate looking at Sheppard, but when the drug had him, there was room for nothing else.

Withdrawal was a bitch. A hundred times worse than the small addiction Ford had forced on him and Teyla. But once Ronon had enough of his mind back, he relished the pain as cleansing. He deserved it.

When it was over, the first name from his lips was Sheppard's, but it was McKay who was there. Maybe Sheppard was too disgusted to see him, although Rodney said they'd all taken turns at his bedside. Ronon wanted to be glad for the friendship, for the kindness in Rodney's eyes, but the thought of them seeing him like that, rabid with hate and nothing else, simply brought him more shame.

When Sheppard finally came again, it was to return his _shilha._ But Sheppard wouldn't meet his eyes, and Ronon feared the worst.

:::

Ronon slept a lot those first days afterward. On the third day he awoke to murmured voices, one deep and instantly recognizable.

"So, he's okay?"

"Yes. His last blood test showed no sign of the enzyme. But Colonel, he needs bed rest. At least a few days. And keep him hydrated. He still has toxins in his system."

"Don't worry; I'll take care of him."

Ronon rubbed his eyes and tried not to look surprised to see Sheppard there, his arms full of clothing.

"All right, big guy, let's get you out of here."

Feeling weak as a baby, Ronon desperately wanted to leave the infirmary and hide in his quarters, so he let Sheppard get him dressed. Sheppard knelt at his feet, eyes down as he helped Ronon into his pants.

Sheppard still wouldn't look at him directly. Ronon wasn't surprised, even if the knowledge stabbed at him.

Once Ronon was dressed, Sheppard helped him back to his quarters. The short walk felt like a day's hike. People stopped to pat his arm and give him well-wishes and welcome him back—lots of people, even the timid scientists who had once skittered away from him in the hallways.

It was strange.

And the whole way, Sheppard's shoulders stayed strong beneath his arm, Sheppard's hand tight on his waist.

In Ronon's quarters, Sheppard dropped him onto the bed and gave an uneasy laugh when Ronon made a sound.

"Sorry about that, buddy. Told you you could lose a few."

"Yeah. You told me."

Sheppard must have come back one time when Ronon was asleep, because his _shilha_ was there on his side table. Ronon kept his eyes on it as Sheppard moved around and opened the shutters to let in the gold-tinted light. Sheppard then adjusted the vent and cool air breezed through the room.

"That's better. So," Sheppard sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out a deck of cards, "Black jack, or War?"

"You don't need to stay."

"What's that? You'll have to speak up; I'm deaf in this ear." Sheppard tapped one of his oddly-pointed ears. Ronon could hardly believe he'd once thought of running his tongue over it, of nibbling on the tip.

"I said you don't have to stay."

"But I want to, so there's that."

"No, you don't."

Sheppard's voice rose in exasperation. "Oh, now you read minds? Spend a little time on a hive ship and—" But he didn't finish the joke, and his eyes went away.

"Why should you stay when you can't even stand to look at me?" Ronon said, furious.

"No. No, I can't," Sheppard said, the cards slipping from his hands onto the bed. "Because I fucked up."

This was different. "What're you talking about?"

Sheppard gathered up the cards. "We missed you by maybe twenty minutes, did you know that?" He seemed to have trouble getting the cards back in their box. "Twenty minutes, and you had to go through hell."

A lump pushed it's way into Ronon's throat. "No. You came for me, and I betrayed you. I betrayed everything—" his voice caught rough, and he had to stop.

"That wasn't you. That was the drug."

Ronon held his breath, looking for the sign that this was a lie to make him feel better. But Sheppard had lowered his voice to the tone he used for truth.

"The drug had you, just like the bug virus got me."

"This was different." Agony. Ronon wanted desperately to believe, but the shame was too great. It swallowed him, swallowed his voice.

"No. No, Ronon. Exactly the same." Sheppard shifted closer, and finally his eyes were there, staring and reddened with grief. "I failed you. It's my fault you had to go through that, but it wasn't you. I know you." Hesitantly, Sheppard put his hand on Ronon's chest, and that's when Ronon realized he was choking with relief.

Sheppard's hand stilled his shaking, and finally Ronon managed to say, "You saved me. You and Tyre, Teyla and Rodney and Major Lorne—"

"You'd do the same for us. You always have."

"Tyre is dead." The grief was new, as if he hadn't already lost his friend once to the Wraith long before.

"His choice. He died a hero."

"I just—I'm _sorry_ —"

"Ronon. It wasn't your _fault_. It wasn't _you_." Sheppard put his hands on Ronon's shoulders and leaned in. Ronon met the Athosian touch automatically, his mind still spinning at this unexpected gift of forgiveness.

He felt redeemed.

:::

Like a dam had broken, every time Sheppard came to visit with food, with games, with jokes, he crowded close and touched—Ronon's shoulder, when putting a tray on his side table; Ronon's leg, when he sat on the bed to start a fresh hand of cards.

Sheppard was coming to him.

Ronon steeled his courage, and when he was strong enough, he asked Teyla to bring him a special feast. Stout bottles of Athosian ale—Sheppard's favorite—along with the foods he liked, the turkey sandwiches with the strange, soft, light bread, plus greens and dressing.

Sheppard looked surprised and pleased, but hovered back, like a _batka_ afraid of the trap. Ronon didn't want it to be a trap, but a gift.

"This is thanks," he said. "For keeping me from going crazy being stuck here."

"You don't have to thank me," Sheppard said, but drew closer. "It's not like I didn't want to be here."

"C'mon. Beer's gettin' warm."

Sheppard gave a smile and joined him on the bed. They ate like they were starving. Ronon still was—he'd lost mass during the withdrawal, and was still putting it back on.

"Bet I could carry you easy right now," Sheppard said while Ronon finished his third sandwich.

"Not for long," Ronon mumbled. A crumb fell from his lips as he tilted his head back and took a long drink from his ale. When he lowered the bottle he saw Sheppard staring at him. At his mouth, maybe.

Ronon licked the beer from his lips, and Sheppard's eyes ducked away.

Feeling more hope than he'd felt since he'd first tried this, Ronon leaned forward. "Want a taste?"

Sheppard frowned. "I have my own." He waved his bottle.

Ronon shook his head ruefully and put his drink down so he could grab the front of Sheppard's shirt. It took a little bit of a tug, but then Sheppard was close, his eyes going wide.

Ronon kissed his mouth just as it opened in protest, so Ronon's name passed along with Sheppard's breath. A good beginning—to taste his name on his lover's lips.

And it was good how quickly the stiff angle of Sheppard's neck softened under Ronon's grip, how Sheppard's tongue joined Ronon's in a sweet tangle. A soft sound escaped Ronon's chest, and Sheppard pulled away.

"You okay? This okay?" he asked, as if he'd been the one to begin it.

"Better than." Ronon said, pulling him in again, letting his fingers twist up into the thick, soft hair at the back of Sheppard's head. Using one hand to sweep away the empty tray, Ronon rolled Sheppard back and over so he could lie on top of him. Sheppard made surprised sound, and Ronon pressed hard, using all his weight to pin Sheppard to the bed.

"Okay. That's...different," Sheppard gasped out.

It took a moment for the words to penetrate the lust haze in Ronon's brain. Also, he was busy mapping the sandy plane of Sheppard's jaw with his lips.

"You haven't done this before?"

"Depends on what you mean."

"This." Ronon shoved his cock against Sheppard's, the stiff rub of the black pants achingly good. "Sex with a man."

"Not since I was sixteen and stupid," Sheppard confessed, sounding embarrassed.

"Oh." That explained a lot. "Why?"

Sheppard sighed, his chest rising and pushing against Ronon's. "There are rules about this back on my world."

Ronon bent and kissed the drooping curve of Sheppard's lower lip. "This isn't there."

"No, it's not. But I could still be court-martialed. You know what that means?"

"Yeah. One of the marines told me about it. They kick you out for fucking."

"You came on to one of my marines?"

Ronon grinned at the squeak of disbelief and bit Sheppard's neck just to watch his head fall back.

But, "Wait," he said.

It was a mistake to start talking. "You want to do this, or not?" Ronon tried to sound casual, but he heard his own fear echo.

Sheppard's eyes were dark meeting his. "Yeah, but I don't—we have to be careful. Okay?" There was another meaning underneath the plea. Sheppard looked hot for it, but confused, and his hands were uncertain, moving restlessly up and down Ronon's back.

He wanted Ronon to be careful with _him._

Ronon should back off maybe, except Sheppard chose that moment to spread his legs wider, so Ronon slipped down and settled hard between them. He couldn't help moving his hips around and down, circling them against each other while he made a feast of Sheppard's neck, of his mouth.

Ronon pulled away and saw Sheppard's face was flushed all the way up to his ears. Unable to resist the pull, Ronon bent and nibbled at the point of Sheppard's right ear.

"I can teach you," Ronon said, his voice like gravel. "It's not hard."

"Yeah, it is." Sheppard said ruefully, and drew up his knees and thrust upward with his hips.

"God. Sheppard." Ronon rose up and started unbuttoning Sheppard's shirt. "You wear too many clothes," he complained, finding more material beneath.

Sheppard looked dazed, but let Ronon tug off his clothing, piece by piece. "You seem...determined enough."

"Yeah, I'm like that." Ronon peeled open Sheppard's pants and laid a hand on his cock. It jerked hard beneath the cloth.

"This is a bad idea," Sheppard muttered, but he let Ronon pull off the rest of his clothing. Ronon stared, until Sheppard said "You, too," reaching for Ronon's shirt. But Ronon stood and yanked off his shirt and pants himself. He wore nothing underneath, and was soon done. Looking down, he saw Sheppard's eyes travel over him, and the flush on Sheppard's cheeks deepened.

"God, you're pretty."

Ronon snorted. Sheppard was one to talk. Pale and slim, so each muscle etched shadows on his thighs, his ribs, his chest. Ronon lowered himself on top of Sheppard, ignoring the way he tightened up beneath him, letting the heat of his body melt the tension without words.

Then he reached down and took hold of Sheppard's cock.

"Jesus!" Sheppard's head dropped way back, giving Ronon a target for his teeth—the cable of tendon that joined neck to shoulder. Sheppard groaned and his legs spread again.

"You're a natural," Ronon said, releasing his grip to thrust down once, then following the wave of pleasure with the movement of his hips. It was good, but Ronon wanted more now that he had Sheppard naked beneath him.

He eased his way downward, using teeth and tongue on one of Sheppard's nipples. Sheppard seemed to like that. A lot. So Ronon played a while patiently until Sheppard's moans sounded more like pleas. He then wrapped an arm over Sheppard's waist and took his cock into his mouth.

It was fantastic—Sheppard's thick cock in his mouth, his increasingly desperate moaning.

"You're good at that," Sheppard whispered hoarsely, then made a startled sound when Ronon pressed the pad of his thumb behind his balls. "Real...good."

"I haven't started," Ronon said as he pulled his mouth away. He knelt up and shouldered one of Sheppard's legs. With his other hand, he wet his thumb and rubbed it against Sheppard's hole.

"Jesus." Surprised pleasure twisted Sheppard's face. Ronon moved his thumb in a circle, and watched Sheppard's eyelids flutter.

"You like this?" From the way Sheppard's cock was jerking, Ronon had a pretty good idea. "You want more?" Ronon pressed in lightly.

Sheppard's voice was drowsy. "Yeah. Yeah. God!" he said when Ronon ran his thumb over and then in. He couldn't believe no one had done this to Sheppard before.

"Your other lovers must be idiots," Ronon said as Sheppard's ass twitched and grabbed at his thumb. "You were made for this. Let me give it to you."

Sheppard opened his eyes suddenly. "Oh." He shuddered in Ronon's hands. "Okay, if you—" Sheppard took a wary glance downward, and Ronon followed the look to his own, aching cock.

"Don't worry, it'll work," Ronon said, baring his teeth in a grin.

"I'm not a wimp," Sheppard said stubbornly.

"Yeah, I get that."

"Just don't—if it's going to hurt, I need to know." But Sheppard's eyes said, _Don't hurt me._

 _I'd die first,_ Ronon thought, and maybe this wasn't the best way to start, after all. But he'd been waiting so damned long for this chance.

"Never," he said aloud. A bad memory poked into Ronon's mind—the jagged piece of iron he'd yanked from Sheppard's side when they were under the building. "Never want to," Ronon added.

Understanding washed over Sheppard's expression, and he nodded, then dropped back, waiting.

The lubricant Ronon used to jerk off was from Earth stores, a white tube with a blue stripe. There wasn't much left, but it would be enough. He leaned over and grabbed it from the drawer.

Sheppard's eyes were slitted as he watched Ronon put a dab on his thumb.

"It's better if you relax," Ronon said. He ignored Sheppard's _no kidding_ frown and rubbed his slick thumb over Sheppard's hole. The startled understanding on Sheppard's face made Ronon's cock jerk eagerly, wanting in. But the throb went deeper than honest lust, connecting to a need in his gut, and he had to take a deep breath, because this way he _would_ hurt Sheppard, and that was not going to happen.

He slipped his thumb in quick, before Sheppard could react and tighten against him.

"Oh." Sheppard arched and twisted. Ronon rubbed his knuckles behind Sheppard's balls and squeezed against his thumb. The tight muscle loosened abruptly, and Sheppard's leg went slack over Ronon's arm.

 _A natural_ , Ronon thought, but didn't speak. The time for speaking was over. This was flesh—his thumb, and then his fingers working inside the slick, hot place where his cock longed to be. He wanted Sheppard with a force that shook him, that tore him straight through, but Ronon took his time until Sheppard was lax, open, murmuring _Yes_ , _God, Ronon, please please, please._

Ronon lifted Sheppard's leg high and leaned in.

"You ready?" This time he was the lead, and Sheppard's dark nod reminded him of countless missions. Same trust. Same faith.

"Here," Ronon said, guiding Sheppard's hand to his cock. Ronon held back a groan when Sheppard's fingers closed around him. "Hold me there, against you."

Eyes half-lidded, Sheppard fumbled him into place, and then held him there firmly while Ronon settled his other hand on the bed.

"Now," Ronon said, and pushed in.

He slid cleanly past the muscle that guarded Sheppard's entrance, the pleasure and relief so fierce he was oddly reminded of gating home. _Home inside Sheppard_. The thought made Ronon's arms weak, made his thighs tremble as Sheppard's hand moved to Ronon's arm and squeezed tightly, hanging on.

Sheppard moaned.

"Yes, inside," Ronon groaned. "Inside you."

He heard the clutch of Sheppard's breath and felt his cock being squeezed tightly then released, as if Sheppard was speaking to him through his body. It felt perfect. Ronon pulled back a little then thrust in again, harder now, more confident of Sheppard's ease with being taken by a cock.

"You feel good, Sheppard. So good."

"You know," Sheppard said on a gasp, "you could...call me John."

"John," Ronon said, thrusting in again, holding himself there in the perfect tightness for a moment before withdrawing to thrust again. "I like fucking you, John."

"Jesus, Ronon," Sheppard gasped. "I'm going to—I'm—"

Ronon gripped the hard curve of muscle capping Sheppard's knee and pushed it closer to his chest so Sheppard's hips rose, the angle perfect, and Ronon held him there, rubbing in and out, over and over, with quick circles of his hips.

Sheppard's breath went harsh and his fingers twitched. He started to reach for himself, but then his back arched and he came over his chest and thigh, his cock jerking and spitting while he made helpless sounds that tightened Ronon's balls.

The rhythmic squeezing around Ronon's cock eased as Sheppard fell back, and then Ronon felt free to release the stranglehold he'd kept on his pleasure. He leaned low, letting Sheppard's knee rest against his chest, and began to thrust fiercely. Sheppard's eyes widened, but he hooked his other leg behind Ronon's back as if to help guide him deeper.

Ronon groaned hoarsely at the signal, and his hips lunged once, twice before he planted himself as deeply as he could and let his orgasm take him. It shook through his balls, his spine, his jerking cock as it spilled inside Sheppard's body. And when he bent his head and breathed again at last, Sheppard's hands were on his shoulders to ease him back to calm.

" _Very_ different," Sheppard murmured, sounding drugged.

"Is that good?" Ronon said, still breathing heavily.

"Yeah, it's _good_." Mocking, but there was a smile in Sheppard's voice, and Ronon mustered the strength to pull away as gently as he could and rearrange their tangle of limbs so they faced each other.

Sheppard had far too much energy, considering, because he squirmed until his head rested on Ronon's arm, and placed his hand on Ronon's chest, fingers spread wide. It took a moment to realize it wasn't a caress; his hand was over the scarred imprint on Ronon's skin. Ronon shivered and tried to brush his hand away, but Sheppard pressed against him more firmly, waiting.

The wash of shame lasted only a moment. Then Ronon matched the gesture. His hand was barely big enough to cover Sheppard's own scar.

Sheppard gave a lopsided smile and then flopped onto his back. Ronon watched him arch in a long stretch, the flexible bend of his spine making Ronon's dick twitch with renewed longing.

"This is a terrific bed you got here," Sheppard said.

Ronon swallowed. "You're free to share it with me," he said, breathless even though he knew Sheppard couldn't understand the significance of the ritual offer.

Maybe he was wrong, though, because Sheppard gave him a long look, and then his mouth softened. "I'd like that," he said in the low tones of truth. He surged forward to kiss Ronon's mouth.

Coming to him at last.

  
_End._  
  



End file.
